The Hunger Games OneShots
by Wizard of Words
Summary: I have decided to make it a bunch of drabbles of the books, parts that weren't really described in detail. If you like that sort of thing, come check it out. Told from different POVs depending on the story. I hope you like it and check it out! Thanks!
1. Together: Peeta's POV

**Hi, so this is my first piece on this website, so I hope you don't be too critical if the text looks wrong or something. Just tell me in the reviews and I'll change it. Could anyone please tell me if I should just leave the piece like this, as a one-shot, or continue developing it? The end can be added to but I was going for a one-shot when I wrote this so I might modify it a little if I get more "continue developing it" reviews. I hope you like it and R&R! Hope you have a nice day and thanks for reading!  
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><p><strong><span>Together: A Hunger Games FanFiction<span>  
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"It's done." I say, squeezing the last bright green icing leaf out onto the freshly baked cake. Katniss's birthday cake. Just then, the creaking of the old wooden door distracts me and I stop staring at the cake.

Beautiful humming with a voice tinged with sadness of the past but filled with hope and happiness of the future envelopes my ears. It can only be Katniss, for whom the mockingjays stop singing to listen to. I walk out of the kitchen, almost colliding with her in the process.

"Happy birthday, Katniss Everdeen." I call, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Hi, Peeta. Look what I shot!" Katniss's grey eyes are wide with excitement, practically glowing. It made her look stunning-even more so. I peer at the fresh carcass Katniss has lugged into her house.

"A doe? That's great! Isn't she the first deer you've shot since…Thirteen?' I immediately regret saying it, and murmur "Sorry…I should have been thinking."

Thirteen is what we call President Coin's short rule, since she was the president of District Thirteen. The glow in Katniss's eyes fades away, replaced by immense sadness. She's probably thinking about the nightmares she has every night where she wakes up screaming, the people she's killed, and the many other horrible things that have happened.

I pull Katniss into a tight hug and whisper:

"I'm so sorry for saying that. I'm so sorry for everything." She clutches me tighter until her nails dig into my back, but I don't mind. She's Katniss, after all. I've loved her my whole life. I'm not so stupid to say something like "Everything's going to be okay." Because it's not true. We're never going to be okay; not ever. But together we'll make it through.

So I release my hold on her and touch her arm, signaling for her to follow. I stride to the kitchen and open the door, nodding my head at the cake.

"It's beautiful," breathes Katniss. I admire the cake; a miniscule chocolate version of District Twelve's forest.

"Thank you, Peeta. I love you." Katniss whispers.

"I love you too Katniss. Happy nineteenth birthday" I smile as she stares at the cake in awe. I just want to make her happy.

We'll make it through, like we always do.

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><p><strong>So once again, thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read my piece. I hope to hear from you guys (and gals :D) whether I should leave it as a one-shot or write further. R&amp;R! Bye! ^_^<strong>

**-ThePsychedelicBookworm**


	2. Green: Katniss's POV

**I've decided to make a one-shot story out of this, thanks for the reviews and views! This is the second one, I'll probably follow up with a Peeta one next. Please R&R! I look forward to checking my stories every day. Thanks to Howlynn for the "red" part! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in here but the plot. I wish I could write like Suzanne Collins!**

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><p><strong>Green<strong>

Ah, it is my favorite, the color green. The silky blades of grass in the meadow fluttering in the breeze, the pale jades and deep emeralds of the leaves on the trees outside of District 12…

I must go on the hunt today—I'm feeling bad again. The ache of the wounds I bear since Prim's death have not healed; they get worse whenever I think of her. I miss her sweet smile, and her goat, Lady. My mind replays the moment with her fair blond hair blowing in the wind when President Coin dropped the bombs on her again and again, stabbing my heart repeatedly with a diamond-sharp dagger.

I grip the arms of my chair tightly, holding on for my life, making sure the memory doesn't stab me again. I'm red. The color of fire, the color of blood. How many souls have I doomed in my life? Prim. Prim. Prim. I shake my head wildly, my braid smacking me hard as I suppress the urge to scream and throw things.

Green. I must think of green. The color of chameleons Peeta and I once read about in a dusty old history book. It is the color of the soft and shy moss. My favorite color keeps me going. Anything to think about other than a few months back…was it a few months back? I don't remember. And frankly, I don't want to.

I get off my rocking chair, the one by the fireplace, and start gathering things to carry with me as I hunt. Everything reminds me of her death. A wheel of cheese, Lady. A few herbs here and there, Prim and mother. A loaf of burnt bread, that night when Peeta saved our family from starving. Another near-death situation. But she was always so strong.

I can't take it anymore. I set down the things I am packing and fall back into the rocking chair. When will it end? Out of all the torture devices, none could have ever hurt me as much as when Prim died. How could they? Well, of course they could. They had power. Hoping to join Prim in the next life, the paradise where I'm sure she'll be, I close my eyes and sink into the welcomed oblivion.

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><p><strong>So how was that? Did you like it or was it not suited to your tastes? I hope to write happier ones next. Thanks again, and R&amp;R! See ya!<strong>


	3. Dandelions: Katniss

**Hi, this is another one-shot. It might be a little weird, but I was thinking of dandelions today. I hope you like it. Please review or I'll take longer to update. Please. I edited this a little from before. Thanks Howlynn! **

**Disclaimer:****I don't own The Hunger Games. I only own the plot in this one-shot. I love Suzanne Collins, though. **

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><p><strong>Dandelions<strong>

The first flower of spring, the one that gave me hope, is still within my memories as I remember the boy who gave me the bread. I remember how I turned around from Peeta Mellark and there it was, shining like the sun. It gave me an idea. It gave me hope.

From then on, I hunted whenever I pleased and we lived with barely any starvation for a few years. I was happier then than I am now. Now, here as I patrol the dirty beige canvas tent I live in, I wish for a single dandelion. For its beautiful seeds to float away upon wind, to whisper softly against the ground, and mature. To help me hope again.

The Capitol had picked me up with a hovercraft one day, when Peeta and I came back from the Capitol after Commander Paylor took over, supposedly to bring me to District 11. There was a party was planned for me. Instead, they took me to this hot, dry desert in a place named California that used to be called the Death Valley. Now, I wonder why it's named the Death Valley?

Every day I walk around, trying to find a way to escape. What's going on back in District 12? Is mother and Prim OK? I need to get back. I yearn for Gale, my trusty friend and hunting partner, but I also regret never having thanked Peeta for the bread and dandelion. I stop patrolling. It's useless, anyway.

What are the chances of another hovercraft coming to save me? It was the Capitol that put me here, they wouldn't take me back. Yes, everything's fine and dandy. What an ironic sentence. They've left me here with no bow and arrows, in a place called Death Valley, leaving me to starve. I sigh. Well, no use dawdling. I need to get up and hunt if I am to survive. And surviving is what I do best.

I'm out hunting when suddenly, suddenly; I come upon a single, wilted dandelion. My eyes widen enormously. This must be a sign. I kneel down and gently pluck the flower from the dry, parched ground. The flower is as beautiful as ever; even if it's wilted. I form a little letter "O" with my lips and whisper to the flower. The seeds float away, hopefully to find a new place to grow.

I scramble up, drop the flower, and get my things. I remember especially to take the cooler-bottle that has been keeping me alive and hydrated for days. After everything's ready to go, I start walking.

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><p><strong>Please review with your thoughts. It's really appreciated. Let's make this a popular story! :D <strong>


	4. Tracker Jackers: Peeta's POV

**Thanks for the views everyone! I've only done Peeta and Katniss POVs so far, so I think Gale will be next. I love the views but could you review too? It would make my day for some comments, not that I don't appreciate your awesome views! So anyway, read, rate, and review! **

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><p><strong>Tracker Jackers<br>****Peeta's POV**

I was semi-conscious, hung up on the wall. The stiff metal chains slit my skin whenever I moved. This was horrible. What were they doing to Katniss? Did they get her? Oh no, no no, no, no…I wouldn't be able to live with myself if Katniss, my Katniss, was chained like this, awaiting the Capitol's judgment. Which probably involved torture.

"Come this way, the council is ready to see you." A voice said gruffly. It was Justice, my guard. What a fitting name for him. He pressed a button on a remote and the locks holding my chains against the wall released me. As I fell towards the ground, five feet below, Justice held out a dog collar.

I landed roughly, dehydrated and malnourished as I was, surrendering myself to the electric necklace. If I tried any funny business, I would be killed instantly. OK, Capitol, Soldier Peeta's got that. I shuffled after Justice, who was leaving the room via a cold metal door in the wall. Why was everything metal? Didn't they have enough money for plants at all? That would remind me of Katniss.

As Justice and I walked through the corridors, my mind wandered to Katniss. Would I ever see her beautiful face again? Was she alright? Was District 12 alright? It was my entire fault. I sighed dejectedly, and then looked up. We had stopped.

"In here, Peeta." Justice said. He looked pained, and I smiled in my head, thinking not all Capitol people were evil. Some were just doing their duty. I obediently walked in and looked around. Where was the council? A television screen flickered on to one side of the wall and I stared. Some council members glared at me, and then a voice in the background said: "Proceed." I recognized that voice. It was President Snow.

And then came the buzzing. The buzzing everywhere. I looked around nervously, trying to find the source of the sound. It sounded like…Tracker Jackers. One sting could cause you to go mad, have hallucinations, or even erase your memory, Old Billy the goat man back in District 12 had warned me.

A swarm of glittery hornets flew in from niches in the wall and it took all I had not to scream. There were hundreds and hundreds of them. Nice to look at, not to touch. I stood frozen on the spot, and squeezed my eyes shut tight. I was going to die here. At least it was me and not Katniss. A last word, a last memory.

"I, Peeta Mellark, love you, Katniss Everdeen." I whisper, and try to remember every single beautiful memory I have of Katniss Everdeen, the girl who hunts, as the Tracker Jackers descend on me. One of them stabs its stinger onto the bare skin on my forearm and I scream. _Do this for Katniss_. I think, before I pass out, Katniss' face the only one I can see.

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><p><strong>Pretty sad... I'm a Team Peeta because I think guys who bake and survive the Hunger Games are doubly awesome! :D Review, PLEASE! See ya! <strong>


	5. Feather: Gale's POV

**I promised you a Gale's POV one-shot, and here it is. I think it's pretty sweet...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games or Gale, or the song. I love the song. Anyway, I do own The Hunger Games books! **

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><p><strong>Feather<strong>

A mockingjay flies past me, and I look up. It's chirping out a four-note melody that's eerily haunting. Have I heard that somewhere before? I lie back against a boulder that's conveniently placed on a rocky ledge near a lake. There were many katniss tubers in that lake, the namesake of my Catnip, the fiercely beautiful girl I've been hunting with for years and years. Until the reaping a few weeks ago. When she volunteered for her sister, Prim, my heart broke. Would my Catnip ever get out of that twisted arena?

And then I remember where I've heard that melody before. It's from the tribute from District 11, Rue. It's her signal for the end of a work day. Katniss whistled that tune just a few days ago, when Rue died. Oh, how I hated that Peeta Mellark. Katniss was kissing him left and right, just for show, I hoped. He, though, I knew, actually liked Katniss. But that was my job. I loved Katniss. My Catnip.

The mockingjay is joined by others, members of its flock. They start dancing in the air, twirling around. The forest grows still, and then they start singing Katniss's lullaby.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes,_

_And when again they open, the sun will rise_

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away_

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray_

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay_

_And when again it's morning, they'll wash away_

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you…_

I love you too, Katniss. How I hate the Capitol for putting you through this. How I hate Peeta Mellark for loving you too. It seems I hate everything now. I look up at the mockingjays again. One of their tail feathers is floating towards my hand. I reach out to grab it. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe it means Katniss loves me too. I will do whatever I can to get you back. I promise you, Katniss.

Gale Hawthorne gets up of the rocky ledge, puts that special tail feather in his pocket, and with an expression of hard determination, he starts walking back to the dirty roads of District 12.

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><p><strong>Yeah, so that was it. I'm feeling kind of bad today, so...yeah. Check out the new Hunger Games trailer! It's much better than the teaser. I'm psyched up to watch the movie! As always, REVIEW! (Caps to get your attention.) ^.^<strong>


	6. Dawn: FindOutYourself's POV

**This is pretty short, but I think it's better than before. If you noticed, I added some new things thanks to Howlynn. Guess who this is about? :D I thank you for your generous views and _re_views. Please do more of each! Oh, and I am not adding the character's name in chapter's name. FindOutYourself! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, but I do look forward to owning a copy of The Hunger Games movie DVD next year! **

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><p><strong>Dawn<strong>

It is dawn, when the sky is smudged with pastel pinks, fiery reds, and neon oranges. Dawn.

How I love dawn, where every morning I get up to listen to the roosters caw. But then I got reaped for the Games. I was wily and quick, smart, too. It was the key to my survival. And here I am now, choking to death on those cursed berries.

Why didn't I recognize them sooner? Mother had taught me all that I needed to know about berries from that big tome. I should have remembered that nightlock berries were extremely dangerous. Why did I relax my guard? Curse _me._

My time will be up soon. I should say my final words.

Gasping, wheezing, I flop underneath a huge Oak tree. I probably look like a trout, which is ironic, since everyone says I look like a cat of some sort.

"This…is…not…over…" and I'm choking on the remains of the berries, unable to breathe.

I hate the Capitol for taking me from my parents. I hate that District 12 boy for picking those berries. But most of all, I hate me, for being so stupid as to steal those fruits of death. Of course they would have wanted to poison me.

Goodbye. I close my eyes and think of the colors I see above me. Dawn.

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><p><strong>Ha ha. There are plenty of clues to who this is. And by the way, I know that dawn wasn't when she died, but I wanted to make it more...meaningful? I guess... So like above, please review and view. I look forward everyday to see how my stories are doing! I actually jumped up and down with happiness when I saw a review. xD Please make me jump up and down more!<strong>


	7. Uncertain Future: Greasy Sae's POV

**Thanks to Howlynn for the critique, I've edited a few of the past chapters. :D Not many people talk about the time The Hob went down, so I wrote a little about it. Emily was just a nice name, so I used it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games. I own my fingers, which have survived typing so much. :D**

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><p><strong>Uncertain Future<strong>

I hobble on, as fast as my old legs can take me. Behind me, my whole living is going up in smoke. I'm choking on the smoke fumes but keep going anyway; Greasy Sae isn't going down without a fight. Emily, my granddaughter, is holding my hand and pulling me quickly towards our shack. I love her; her mother, my daughter, died when she was three by hanging for being a traitor to the Capitol. The trauma made Emily go a little crazy.

We stop at a dilapidated shack—our home. At least it hasn't been burned down. I take a second to arrange my thoughts. What am I going to do now? Where will I get the money?

"Grammy? Grammy?" Emily sounds slow, but I know she has a good noggin'.

"Yes, Emily, dear?" I look down at her petite frame, at the delicate brown curls. She's gorgeous.

"We're…alright?" talking is a burden on poor Emily. The only education she's gotten is from listening to conversations in The Hob and in the town square. It surprises me that she can talk even this much.

"Yes, we are, dear." I don't want to tell her that we aren't alright, really. I haven't got any money now and most of my old cooking pots and pans are at The Hob. At the last moment, I rescued some from the flame. Maybe we can make something out of that?

I don't want to tell Emily that I'm lost, having no idea what to do now. I don't want to tell her that the Capitol did this, like the things it had done to her for most of her young life. I look down at Emily, looking deep into her soulful and clever hazel eyes.

"We're alright, Emily. We're going to be just fine."

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><p><strong>I love dramatic endings that make you think. Lots of my work are like that. :D Review please! By the way, this is the most popular of all my stories. I think one-shots are cooooooool. <strong>


	8. I See: Finnick's POV

**Sorry for not writing for such a long time...but I was busy and had a case of laziness. :D Here it is.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Aw. Too bad. **

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><p>Blood pours out of the huge tear in my arm. I scream at the pain that keeps coming back to bite me.<p>

Those twisted, horrible mutts that the Capitol sent. They smell just like roses and blood. A few are hanging on to me now, because I'm just a piece of meat to them. They bite and rip, designed to kill. I struggle to hang on to the ladder that's right in front of me. Keep. Moving. Up.

Come on now…halfway there. The mutts continue to tear at me, and every rip makes me stagger down a step. I should have blacked out long ago, but miraculously, I'm still alive. All I can think about is Annie, the love of my life, my soul, my being.

I start to feel light-headed. I see the mast of a boat, the boat that my father used to bring me fishing in every day. I see a silver parachute…the one that saved my life in that first Game. I see Mags, my mother, laughing at me, after I got myself tangled in a fishing net. I see a pink sky…a last sunset that I shared with Annie.

I see Annie, in her wedding dress, looking like the most beautiful person in the universe to me, glowing, radiant. I see myself watching the waves breaking over the rocks in my special spot at the Hill. I'm barely hanging on to life, I know, and I feel someone watching these memories with me.

Annie?

Finnick Odair wishes you a long and happy life, and wants you to know…he loves you.

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><p><strong>Sad, eh? Please review! <strong>


	9. How Violent I Am: Clove's POV

**Here's another one. :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, but I love Gregor the Overlander also by Suzanne Collins! **

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><p><strong>How Violent I Am<strong>

Standing on a plate, knowing you're going to be chopped up…it must feel like you're a piece of meat in the kitchen, waiting to be cooked. Fortunately for me, I never have to feel that way, since _I _am the chopper. The slicer. The dicer.

There I am, tense and ready to run the moment the gong sounds, glancing at the tributes around me. Which one shall I kill first? Probably that girl from District 12. What was her name? Katiss? No, Katniss. Well, after that, maybe the scrawny boy from District 4. He doesn't seem very useful, being so arrogant and bragging about his knife skills. I will put an end to that kid with _my _knife skills.

The countdown clock in front of our plates reads 4. I pull my hands into fists, my legs prepared to sprint. 3. Just for good measure, I swivel my head left and right, and give everybody a murderous glare, making sure they see it. 2.

I focus my glare onto a jacket, flapping in the breeze, at the top of the Cornucopia. I was sure it contained many, many knives. Why would something like a jacket be on top of the Cornucopia unless it was valuable? And as everyone knows, the best place to put knives are in your jacket. If the jacket is waterproof or fireproof or has special abilities, all the better! 1. I'm going to go for it. "GO!" Screams the countdown clock.

I'm already off and running. Somebody runs in front of me, and I punch their face, not caring who it is, just knowing I need to get to that jacket. It was my lifeline now.

"Clove!" somebody yells. I turn my head to see Cato running towards me. I don't stop—nothing stands in my way—not even my boyfriend. Instead, I choose to yell at him.

"What?" I continue sprinting, awaiting an answer. Almost to the horn. There's already someone there, but—lucky them!—they don't choose the jacket. My jacket. I can't wait to see what knives are in there!

As I reach the Cornucopia, someone grabs me by my hair. I pull free and start climbing the horn, quickly and deftly reaching for the jacket. I open it to see a dazzling array of knives. I was right. I select a knife and start injuring people. It _is_ the Bloodbath, after all.

Ladies and gentlemen, let the screams begin.

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><p><strong>Here's a tip: Don't mess with Clove unless you are Thresh. :D This story is my most popular, with my hits going up after I added another chapter to this story! Please review, and thanks for reading. <strong>


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